


Midnight Express

by melitta4ever



Category: NCIS
Genre: Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-27 13:22:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13881732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melitta4ever/pseuds/melitta4ever
Summary: Sometime during season 2. Kate is alive and well.Gibbs and Tony are investigating attempted bombing of a Navy base, in a not so friendly NATO country. Someone doesn't want them to do so.





	1. Bitter Necessity

**Author's Note:**

> The title refers to Allen Parker's 1978 drama. 
> 
> I based the prison life mostly to that movie even though the prisons in Turkey went through a modernization process and not so different than US ones since 1990s. 
> 
> I added some words and phrases in different languages. I keep translations in the text unless they are quite obvious. Even so you can find the translations in the end notes. Hope it works.

The single incandescent lamp hanging on the ceiling gave everything sickly yellow tint; the once white walls, the rusted bunk beds, the dirty linens... Except Tony. The young agent's  naked back looked better than it had any right to be under Gibbs’ shadow. Gibbs wanted to touch, caress and massage the tight muscles on exhibition; but he knew that it would be a fatal mistake. This couldn't be anything more than a fuck. An angry one at that. Still, he had to ask.

“Tell me you want this, Tony” He whispered to his agent's ear. 

Tony, tight as a coil as he was, almost jumped with that whisper alone.

“Boss?” He sounded so much younger than his years then. So young, so naive… spread under Gibbs like a virgin sacrifice. And it would be funny, using Tony in a sentence next to the word virgin if Gibbs didn't feel like the monster in the story.

“Tell me how long you wanted." He turned back to his Russian accent even though he was still whispering; should stay in character all the time. "You thought I did not know?” He asked right into the young man's ear, while scenting him. How the hell did Tony manage to smell good in this hell hole? “You think I did not see the way you look at me all this time? You think _**I**_  missed signs?” He added with a sneer that well-suited his character. “Confess it. Tell me how much you want this. Help me a little, huh?”

“Boss… I'm… Gibbs… I'm scared.” Tony stuttered.

“Not gonna let anyone hurt you, Tony. _Ty moy._ Mine alone. Now, tell me.”

Gibbs wanted to hear him. Yes, he needed some kind of verbal affirmation so that it wouldn't be rape-He whisked that notion off to a back folder in his mind. To be opened when they were free and safe.- No. He _wished_  to hear how much Tony wanted him. Wanted Gibbs to fuck him into mattress. Fuck him good and proper. Fuck him to the next day and some. But Tony, maybe for the first time since he had seen him in that dirty Baltimore alley, wasn't playing according to Gibbs's plan. He was silent.

“Do you want me fail, Di-Notso?” He asked; threats falling down from his tongue as if he was in an interrogation. “Do you want other _lyudi_   get a taste? For them to uncover your cute _zhopa_  from these God awful shorts?” 

“Gibbs-”

“Boss!” He corrected the young man. Couldn't afford to lose his game. He had to hold on to his persona.

“Yes, boss.” Tony, then, added with barely audible voice, “I wanted you for a long time, boss.”

“Wanted what… tell me.” He asked while pushing Tony's shorts and boxers down, out of one leg.

“I...I wanted you to fuck me. When I stayed at your place… I really wanted you to… boss…”

“I know, Tony.” He placated the young man while pulling out his dick. Hard and leaking. “I will fuck you so good.”

Jesus, he was tight. Gibbs had asked him to prepare, but apparently Tony hadn't taken him seriously. At least he was slick enough that there wouldn't be any serious tears. 

When Gibbs pushed all the way in, Tony made a sound between a scream and a grunt. It tickled something primal inside Gibbs. Something wicked. 

“You take me good, Tony.” He over emphasized the first vowel of his name, the way he knew irritated the young agent. “Such tight _zhopa_. So warm. Fucking pretty. And all mine.” He grabbed a handful of Tony's hair -too long, too fucking long; such disadvantage in a place like this- and pulled his head back. Tony's eyes were shut tight, taking it like a good little soldier. Tony's hair was coarser than a woman, but still filled his hands with softness. Gibbs wrenched the hair extra hard to overcome that tenderness. He couldn't allow any softness cracking into his persona right now.

Gibbs pumped with fervor, seeking only his own release. So different than all the other times he had sex. He knew if he tried to touch, he would find Tony's dick limp and soft. It didn't matter. This wasn't for Tony to enjoy. It wasn't even for Gibbs to enjoy. It was just a fucking show. To demonstrate his alpha male slash top dogness. It was to make a point. To own and protect Tony. Nothing else. Shouldn't be nothing else. However Gibbs enjoyed it. Maybe even a bit too much. He pumped even harder to silence that thought too.

When he came, it was anticlimactic. He filled Tony's asshole with his seed and that was it. He made a lot of noise to make sure everyone heard he was done. Then, he looked down at Tony, enjoying the hard body under his for a little longer. Before kicking him down, he whispered again,

“I'm taking the watch, now. You sleep, Tony. Sleep well.” He made sure to lose his accent so that Tony could hear at least a friendly voice after this horrendous ordeal.

“Yes, sir.” Tony answered with a barely there whisper without meeting his eyes. Gibbs couldn't be sure if the young man was acting subdued or really was.

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations based on Google. 
> 
> Ty moy -You're mine  
> lyudi -men  
> zhopa -ass
> 
> Please let me know if the machine translation butchered the meaning, I'll correct it right away.


	2. Wrong turn

_Week or so earlier…._   
  


 

 

“We're so fucked.” Tony claimed after the heavy iron gates closed on them.

“You think, DiNozzo?” His boss scolded, but he was missing the usual fire behind the words which actually sounded more morbid than the gates closing on them.

They were supposed to interrogate a suspect in a bombing attempt to the Navy base in this God forsaken country, but unfortunately too late they realized that they were being played. Somebody somewhere somehow had arranged so that they were in the prison as prisoners, not interrogators. 

The air was heavy, humid and disgusting. Too many unwashed bodies with a little to no ventilation. The stench was overbearing in the summer heat. Tony knew that expecting air conditioning in a prison was too much since even the hotel they were staying didn't have one. But he had really hoped there would be adequate air circulation. No such luck.

“I hope we won't have to stay the night, boss.” He attempted softening the mood. “I'm sure their hospitality is fine but.. let's leave before midnight.”

“Your optimism’d be funny in any other situation.” Gibbs answered while his eyes taking everything in.

“Seriously boss, how long do you think until we're out? Surely even McProbie'll figure out we're not back in the hotel.” 

“Look around, Tony. Does anyone look like a political prisoner to you?”

That's when Tony paid attention to the people gathering around them. All big guys with mustaches from WW1 era Italy. Most didn't have a shirt on and Tony reevaluated the meaning of body hair in his dictionary. These guys could be living proof of Darwin's theories ‘cause Tony could swear he had seen gorillas with thinner fur. More relevant observation showed him that most guys had scars on their bodies and faces; mostly indicating knife fights. No, they surely didn't look like political prisoners. They actually looked like jumped right out of pages of Bruno Bara. Not that Tony was interested in such crude entertainment... much... Yeah, nothing political.

“We're in a totally different prison, aren't we?” Tony voiced his suspicion.

“Seems like it.” Gibbs answered but his eyes were busy, feeding Tony's distress.

“So, someone didn't want us look into this case. Still, McGee would find us. It shouldn't be too hard to find the paper trail.” 

That got him a scoff. 

“You assume it is not some no name guy who didn't like how you, _an American_ were looking at his sister, DiNozzo.” Gibbs reminded him rule number 8, **never assume**. “Even so, if it's done in the low level, it's gonna be almost impossible to figure out for McGee. I heard something about missing paperwork while we're being processed. It sounded like a common enough occurrence too.”

The scenes from Midnight Express started popping up in Tony's mind. He couldn't decide whether what he was witnessing was worse than the movie or not. 

They ended up in a large barrack like room, called _koğuş_ , with at least twenty bunk beds. Some inmates were sleeping, some talking, one playing a guitar like instrument with a very long neck. Everyone stopped when they entered the room. Tony felt like a strange cowboy entering a bar in one of the spaghetti westerns. His hands were itching for a revolver. Hell, even for his blade. But while the guards had let them keep their clothing, they had taken away the belts, shoelaces and everything in between.

Gibbs had started talking with a heavy Russian accent as soon as they had realized they were being processed. It was strange. As he expected, Russian speaking Gibbs was... exotic. His fake Russian accent was even more so. Though a prison was not a place for such thoughts. 

“I wish I knew some Russian too, boss.” He whispered, Americans were not loved in this country to say the least.

“I wish you were not wearing _chertov_  shorts, Di-Notso.” was the terse reply he got instead.

“It's over 100 degrees, boss.” Tony defended himself, “Look around, it's not like there is a dress code. Everyone is half naked.”

That unfortunately got more heat from Gibbs. The guy suddenly pushed into Tony's space and almost yelled into his ear. “Get your head in the game, Tony. You not see the looks you get, we have even bigger _problema_.” He took a big breath and slowly released it. His large hand grasped Tony's hair at the back of his neck, pulling his head even closer and whispered. “I'll try my best, Tony; but you gotta trust me and follow my lead, okay?”

It was Gibbs, Tony knew that. But he was also a completely different person. Tony had to draw his head back to look into his eyes. Ice blue.

“Do you trust me, Tony?” Gibbs repeated.

“With my life, boss.” Which was the truth.

Then Gibbs took over the show while Tony watched on the sidelines. Gibbs chose a bunk bed and intimidated the guy occupying the top bunk to leave. He could apparently speak some Turkish too. It sounded off even to Tony's ears when he first heard him speak; but now... cut with some Russian and it sounded ominous. Gibbs looked dangerous. Not just the language. The posture, the eyes, the aura surrounding him screamed danger. More than Gibbs being a Marine, a deadly sniper. And Tony knew all about the once a marine always a marine song. But this Gibbs… This one looked ruthless. This was a guy who can kill with his bare hands for not liking the look he got. This was a guy without a conscience. Without pity. It gave chills to Tony watching him assert his dominance in the crowded room without making a fuss..

Tony took the lower bed when Gibbs ordered him with a nod of his head. It was already empty, inmates clearly preferring top beds. The bed was lumpy like Abby’s favorite plush bear that went into the washing machine way too many times. But it was the filth the sheets covered with made Tony squeamish. It seemed  this bed had been used plenty by more than one couple. Tony didn't wanna touch it, let alone sleep on it. 

“It's not only McGee, boss. Kate is a great agent and Abby would find needle in a haystack.” He said needing the reassurance, “They won't leave us here long.”

“You know how long to see a judge in this country?” asked Gibbs. It was still strange hearing his voice in heavy Russian accent. 

“No.”

“Nobody knows, _nikto_. There is no limit, Di-Notso. We stay here for years before anyone suspect.” That accent started to get Tony's nerves suddenly.

“We're not gonna stay here years, boss.” He claimed with conviction.

Gibbs pulled Tony's neck, second time in less than hour, fingers poking dangerously close to his carotid artery, “Yeah? Let's hope for your sake that is the case, Tony.” He lashed out. Then, pulling Tony even closer he whispered right into his ear, “Trust me, Tony. We're gonna be okay.” This time his tone was soft, voice was all Gibbs; the old one. It eased Tony's nerves more than he wanted to admit.

“Of course, boss.”  
  
  
  


Gibbs let go of Tony's neck and lied back down the bed. He promised safety to his man. He would do anything, anything to protect Tony, just like any member of his team. But he was not sure if it was going to be enough. Tony wasn't blind. His observation skills were darn eery sometimes. He sure  was aware of how those ugly sons of bitches were looking at him. 

Gibbs wanted to smack himself for letting Tony wear fucking shorts in this fucking country. Together with his -surely tailor made- pink striped shirt, Tony looked like a male model. Even more so than usual in this God forsaken place. Gibbs had already heard several comments on the new _oğlan_ , -direct translation meant boy but Gibbs knew no one called anyone over 12 a boy unless… Some inmates were either unaware that Gibbs could understand them or they simply didn't care. All they talked about was Tony's colorful eyes -a big rarity in this part of world-,  his hairless legs, his pretty mouth and -even though Gibbs didn't know the exact words he was sure it was something in the line with- his cock sucking lips.

The friendly front the young agent always put was sure as hell an all you can eat invitation to these guys. Some of them were already salivating looking at Tony's ass. Jesus! Soon, very soon Gibbs had to do something. 

He tried to empty his brain. To embrace his new persona: dangerous, hard-ass, mean… Luckily, it wasn't too far fetched from the real him. The hardest part was going to treat Tony like an _oğlan._  His prison persona wouldn't treat him like a teammate or even a decent human being. This game was all about the appearance. He couldn't be seen weak. And showing any kind of affection was a big sign of weakness in here. 

Tony would surely understand. And even if he didn't, at least he would be safe.

 

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chertov- God damn  
> problema -problem  
> nikto -no one


	3. Jump start

_First morning_

 

Gibbs had taken the first watch and Tony had slept most of the night; but still, he couldn't say it was a refreshing sleep. Apart from the disgusting petri dish that was his bed, feeling hungry eyes on one's ass was not a good sleep remedy. When the day broke, which was barely evident through the dirt covered small windows, Tony jumped out of his filthy bed; already feeling infested with dozens of bugs  and God knew how many billions of bacteria. He had to find a way to clean the sheets.

There were a few men awake. Some were smoking. The heavy smoke was hanging on in the middle of the room and further polluting their already foul air. Only two of the little windows were operational and open; but no breeze whatsoever could be felt. If Tony was a smoking man, this might be a perfect opportunity to start canvassing. Though, he was sure asking for a smoke was not a good way of starting a friendship in a prison.

Language was a big barrier, but Tony was used to overcome even bigger obstacles daily; thanks to his perfectionist boss. It didn't take him too long to find a newspaper as a conversation starter with the guy closest to his age.

He tried to look casual while keeping Gibbs' bed under sight. So, it was a bigger surprise than usual when he found himself in front of a really pissed of ex-Marine, grabbing his neck as if he was gonna strangle him. 

“Boss?” He winced, okay, squeaked. 

“Da’ fuck yo doin’, Tony?” Gibbs growled with that annoying Russian accent. 

“Nothing-” Tony tried to peep in.

“No? Looked like you offering to be his _suka_.” Gibbs’s fingers dugged in even more, slowly turning Tony's legs to wet noodles.

Gibbs, then, spoke in Turkish in which Tony knew only how to say _yes_ , _no_  and _I'm hungry_. Okay, also _you're beautiful_ ; but he knew how to say that phrase in about twenty different languages. From the way the inmates reacted, he assumed Gibbs explained his disapproval of the constant leer, probably with a lot of curse words because 1, it took a bit longer than Tony would expect and 2, the reaction was much worse. 

The guy Tony was trying to build some kind of rapport jumped up in Gibbs face; apparently offended by something Gibbs said, or something Tony tried to say, or something Tony did, or hell, it might just the time for a welcome party for the newcomers for all Tony knew. The barrack got quiet, everyone watching the posturing between Gibbs and the hapless guy. Gibbs didn't have to signal Tony; Tony knew he was supposed to stay behind and let his boss make his stand. 

It went down fairly quick. The prisoner didn't have any moves to protect himself against McGee, let alone a proud US Marine like Gibbs. The skirmish afterward was a bit longer; few inmates didn't like the idea of their friend getting beaten by the alien newbie. This time, Gibbs ordered Tony to stay back, then single handedly took down three hulks. Without breaking sweat.  
  
  
  
  
  


Gibbs looked around. The prisoners seemed impressed with what went down; but he knew he had to go through tougher trials to secure his position in this place. He was hoping they would have more time, but then Tony had gone and wagged his God damn ass in front of hungry gorillas; jump-starting their initiation process. Deep down Gibbs knew that Tony couldn't have helped it. Flirting came like breathing to Tony. He didn't even realize doing it most times, Gibbs was sure of it. 

He grabbed Tony's arm and publicly claimed him as his _oğlan_. That got some smirks around the barrack. Gibbs etched those faces in the memory; he needed to be extra vigilant around those. 

They would eventually come after Tony. It was just the matter of when. Gibbs knew he could take them. He didn't see anyone that might be a challenge in this crowd. None of these guys had any real training in fighting. They might be very good at beating down some civilians, but Gibbs could take them his hands tied. **If**  they came in small numbers that was; after all not underestimating the enemy was one of the rules. And also, Gibbs was a realist. There was no way he could take all the _koğuş_  together, not even half. So he had to establish that he was the top dog and Tony fucking belonged to him before the inmates got any ideas.

The hard part was not going to be beating a few guys to show how scary and hardass he was. The hard part was going to be with Tony. 

He scanned the crowd one more time, daring anyone for a fight. No one else stepped up. It was done for today. Hopefully.

“Tony!”

“Yes, boss.” Tony jumped from where he'd been standing.

“Find somethin’ to clean my hands.”

“On it, boss.”

Tony would understand.  
  
  
  
  
  


Gibbs' training required that Tony had already made a mental map of the place with places of importance marked with metaphorical bright red dots so that he could find his way in any emergency, like during a fire or when his eyes blood shut. And Tony was grateful for it now. He didn't have to wander around for the first aid kit or God forbid ask for directions. All he had to do was to walk to the entrance of the barrack and open the white metal cabinet to get the first aid bag. That was all. Easy peasy if it wasn't for the weight of what had just happened. Gibbs declared himself as the top-dog and Tony as _his bitch_. Not a partner, not an assistant,  not even a side kick... his bitch.

Since Tony had started working at the agency under Gibbs' strict command, he hadn't needed much explanation from the guy. They were almost always in sync, their seemingly choreographed moves always fitted seamlessly during any case. Tony had never had any problem anticipating his boss' actions because usually it would be the most logical thing Tony could think of. Not this time.

If he was honest with himself, Tony knew it was normal to be out of sync with his boss in this situation. Tony simply didn't have any experience with international prisons or even the cultures of anywhere east of Europe. Gibbs did.

The return trip to their bed felt even longer with the weight of what felt like thousand eyes on his back. They made his skin crawl. He felt disgusted and... God, he hoped he had never made a woman feel like this, ever. No more ogling pretty girls for him, regardless that Tony thought they wanted it. He couldn't risk being wrong after this experience. 

Gibbs was sitting down on Tony's bed, calm and relaxed for an untrained eye. Tony knew better. His boss was better aware of his surrounding his eyes closed than most people with their eyes open. He was Gibbs. Tony kneeled down in front of him and started cleaning his knuckles; bloody and swollen from the impromptu fight. Tony knew the power behind his boss' hits. They have been in more than enough trainings together. So it wasn't like Gibbs didn't know that Tony could take care of himself in a fight. Maybe not as good as his boss but he could. So there had to be something else. Why would Gibbs sideline his senior agent like that. The old, incessant fear of a closeted law enforcement officer suddenly sky rocketed. Did Gibbs knew? Was that why Tony was named a bitch? Was that what Gibbs thought of him deep down?

"Breathe!" Gibbs' order found its way through his panic -even though it was barely a whisper- and relaxed the claws crushing his lungs. And only because the voice belonged to Gibbs. He was Gibbs and Tony had trusted him with his life for three years without question. He wasn't going to stop doing so now when Gibbs explicitly asked for it. He looked up and found the iron clad mask of a Russian psycho looking back. Tony had been on enough undercover ops to know that you couldn't let the mask fall, not for a minute. Not even to give your partner a sign, especially when your every single move was under scrutiny by dozens of hardened criminals.

After cleaning the wounds, Tony moved to wrap them which Gibbs rejected with a curt gesture. Tony got it, wrapped hands were sign of weakness while the bruised knuckles  suggested the exact opposite. Gibbs was still on the process of establishing his rank in this place. Any sign of weakness, no matter how small, would be a death sentence after the show he had put on.

His hands were shaking while putting back together the first aid bag. No sign of weakness... That included how well he was treated by his bitch too, obviously. Tony shouldn't ever force Gibbs hand in this big drama they were playing. They would both lose, dearly. Very dearly. When he placed the bag back to the cabinet his mind was made.

When he returned back to Gibbs, Tony found him in the same position but a bit tense. Nothing obvious to anyone who hadn't been observing the guy for three years, but Tony could sense it. Gibbs was dreading something and Tony was not going to make him ask. He kneeled in front of his boss one more time. His shaking hands found the zipper on the Sears' pants, zipping it down slowly. He could do it. And if he was honest with himself, when else could he find a situation that he could put his hands on his boss?  
  
  
  
  
  


Gibbs had hoped that he could trust Tony to do what's necessary, but still seeing the guy kneeling in front of him flooded much needed relief in his chest. He didn't move forward instead allowed Tony to crawl on top of the bed, creating an illusion of privacy under the shadow of the top bed. He could hear the crude comments on _gavurs,_ infidels, doing it in the daylight, but didn't care.

His intention was simple. Let Tony pretend giving him a blowjob. His own acting might not be top notch -luckily he was playing an psychopathic recluse, not much to act- but he trusted Tony. Tony's acting deserved Oscars, multiple. He could put a great show.

What he didn't plan was how freaking good it felt that warm breath over his dick. It had risen already, apparently quite excited about the prospect. What he should have included in the plans, though, was the reason behind the Oscars Tony most definitely deserved. The kid was all about method acting which was a life saver in situations like this. Tony of course didn't stop at pretending... He swallowed Gibbs to the root in a single move. And Gibbs should have planned on how good it would feel the young agent's mouth on his dick. Jesus f Christ.... Holy....  Fuck. It felt good, way too good. Now, he had to act the opposite way, had to curb his enthusiasm. His character was supposedly used to getting regular blow jobs from Tony.

Gibbs could've done the 'couldn't care less' act easily if it hadn't been too long since he had a partner. And of course it wouldn't be such a hardship to keep quiet if Tony didn't fucking deepthroat him like a desperate whore, massaging his dick from tip to root with using God knew which muscles. He realized he was holding Tony's head, pulling his hair, pressing himself deeper in the man.

When he came, he couldn't suppress the groan raising from his very soul; luckily roaring was a fitting declaration of manliness in their current environment. He felt exhausted afterwards and for a second, he selfishly wanted to bask in the moment. He didn't want to stop his subordinate cleaning his spent dick. He didn't want to come back to his senses, to shouldering big, hunky weight of guilt, to smother the aftertaste of this amazing sensation.

When he finally took control of his breathing, he lift Tony's chin with a single finger. Looking at his eyes, he tried to send some friendly signal before figuratively kicking the guy out. Tony, God bless him, held his gaze while placing his sated organ back into the confines of his pants.

"Go! Get me breakfast!" Gibbs ordered when he was sure he could talk.

Tony left with a quick 'on it boss', leaving Gibbs alone with his thoughts. And Gibbs tried. He tried to focus on their fubar situation, on impossibility of their escape, on contingency plans.... But one thought insistently found its way into his sex softened mind: Tony wasn't a stranger to sucking dick.

 

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suka -bitch


	4. Chores

_One week in prison..._

 

The prison life, against Tony's expectations, was truly chaotic. Almost a week in, and Tony still couldn't figure out the rules. There was only two counts a day, one at morning and one at night, even they weren't held at the same time everyday. It seemed like the guards started counting whenever they fancied. The meals were served at anyone's guess since each  _koğuş_  had their meal separately and at random times. And there was no specific time for sleeping; you could keep the lights on as long as none of the inmates threatened breaking your fingers for causing him insomnia.

Tony had latrine duty as his daily chore which sucked big time. Toilets here was truly, beyond his worst expectations, disgusting. And that's before counting in the how dirty they were. First of all, there wasn't even a porcelain throne to sit on to do your business. No. There was a hole. Just a hole on the ground. A small one too, barely bigger than a fist. One had to squat and aim, then hope for best which was an impossible task. When he said impossible, he meant it. Impossible. Literal. Evidenced by his every day duty of cleaning the thick logs of disgusting shit off the ground. It was the worst job Tony had ever done in his life and he suspected he got twice the job than usual because he was a foreigner. He also ended up clocking in for Gibbs' chores, because a persona like a Russian mobster would never wash the dirty laundry as long as he had a nice boy toy like Tony. No time to get bored in the prison. Awesome.

"Why here?" Asked Memet with his broken English. They were the only ones in the toilets; probably he deemed safe talking to the infidel.

"Never knew how dangerous my boss actually was." Tony answered truthfully; pathetically happy that there was someone he could talk to. Gibbs himself wasn't much of a talker, but his prison persona was even a worse mum. Memet's English might not be good for intellectually titillating conversations, but it was a God sent for Tony's ears. "You?"

" _Namus belası._ "  He shrugged, like Tony was supposed to know it must be honor killing that had landed Memet in prison. Then, he checked around and whispered, "Your boss... You not trust Russians... He sell your ass, much near."

Tony had no idea why Memet took on himself to warn Tony every single day. About the poison in the food, about exploding toilets, about the guard who likes to kill then eat the inmates, a very long, very crazy list. It was possible there was a kind of kinship, Memet was an  _oğlan_  too; serving several guys in their  _koğus_. Also possible that Tony was the only one under the guy in the food chain. He didn't get to boss around anyone else.

"Nah, man. I'm too important for him to sell." Tony joked.

Memet laughed, "He fuck your ass, no?" He asked as if fucking someone was the proof of their insignificance. That might be the case for Memet's world though. "He don't?" This time he looked serious and maybe a bit jealous.

Tony didn't need anyone poking through their cover. Gibbs was receiving blow jobs from Tony steadily every day since they had arrived here, but it might not be enough. Why would it? Tony knew Memet got fucked at least once a day if he was lucky. Inmates got bored easily when they didn't have to worry about even the small chores. Nothing to do but sleep, fight and fuck. It wasn't easy to be an alpha dog.

" _Siktir lan!"_ He feigned righteous anger, "Fuck you!"  which luckily gave Memet the right impression that he was rather unwillingly fucked by his boss.

 _"Siktir git, lan!_  Fuck off!*" He corrected Tony's swearing with a laugh. "You learn good but talk funny."

Tony decided to keep himself how funny Memet's English pronunciation was; he had more important things to worry about. Like not knowing when exactly Gibbs was gonna start the next fight to assert his dominance. Or the ever dropping chances of them being rescued from this damned place. Or how Gibbs was falling deeper and deeper into his role and becoming -not pretending- an asshole of a man. And something deep inside Tony agonized over the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Gibbs was treating him like shit because he knew how Tony felt about those BJs. Maybe the guy was feeling sick everytime Tony touched him like that. Maybe some of his aggression was stemmed from being stuck in a situation he loathed. And maybe, he started to hate Tony too, now that he knew his senior field agent was a fag. Not that Tony was a fag. He definitely liked breasts way too much to be one. He just... Yeah, he had tons to worry about.  
  
  
  


The boredom was brutal. Gibbs hadn't been this inactive since he had been bedridden in hospital and even then he either had enough painkillers to knock him out or enough books to pass time. Some of the fights he started was to break the lethargy actually, to exercise. Not all though. He usually had to fight to protect his status. There was always another young, hot head who wanted to try the Rus _gavuru_  Russian infidel.

This time it wasn't like that though. It wasn't out of boredom either. The guy had greeted Gibbs, which was enough show off respect in a place like this, when he had sit the chair next to him. However, the conversation had gone bad to worse very quickly. Gibbs' Turkish wasn't good. He understood most of the direct insults in daily prison life easily but when it came to anything else Turks were worse than Chinese: meandering around the topic for miles without uttering the very words they meant. So it was partly Gibb' fault that the thing had grown to such a big problem; he had missed hints completely until the guy had convinced he was on the right track. When he offered something in return for Tony, all that  unspoken conversation lit up in Gibbs mind like Christmas lights. They thought he wasn't using Tony. They thought he got bored. They thought he might want an exchange. His couldn't listen to the guy's offer even if he wanted to, his ears full with roaring fury. It was one of the most satisfying brawls since they had ended up in this hell. Still, it didn't help much in calming him.

"Go prepare yourself!" He ordered Tony as soon as young agent entered the  _koğus,_  still pumped up with adrenaline after his fight. "Then come to my bed, ready to take me." He had to make a show of using his boy, properly use him. He had to.

 

TBC


	5. Lamb

* _3 weeks in prison_ *

 

"Look a lamb!" Memet whispered while fitting a huge slice of cheese in a half loaf of bread; together with tea what counted as breakfast here.

Tony turned to where Memet pointed and there it was, a lamb in a slaughterhouse. The boy looked young, younger than he actually was considering he was in an adult prison. His hair was not raven black as the majority here but light, singling him out in the crowd. He had big green eyes and full red lips with a fucking Cupid brow. He was pretty like he had no right to be. Tony seriously hoped the kid had someone looking after him but judging from the looks he was openly getting that wasn't the case.

Gibbs, as usual, came out of nowhere and stopped him with a hand on the shoulder.

"Don't!" More succinct than usual, bordering cryptic...

"As I was doing absolutely nothing boss, would you please elaborate?"

"You fucking know what!" Gibbs spoke with venom, that was his usual too these days. "You cannot help to kid."

"I'm just gonna say hi, boss." Tony explained, feeling like a petulant toddler.

"I mean it, Tony." Gibbs whispered without that ratchet accent, indicating how serious he was, "Stay away from the new kid."

"Boss?" He tried, but the glare of doom put him in his place, "Got it, boss."

It was like the more they were playing their roles, the more Gibbs thought of him as a not good for nothing _oğlan_. Tony sometimes wanted to challenge him for a fight, just to prove him -or actually, to himself- that he was a competent federal agent, that he could carry himself in a fight, that he didn't need constant monitoring and protection like a damsel in distress. He was just really scared of Gibbs to even ask though. He also tried his best to shoo away the dark thought that made itself a cosy home in between Tony's insecurities: what if Gibbs really thought about Tony like that after seeing how good he was taking up in the ass?

Tony's inner turmoils didn't affect his actions much. He wasn't gonna disobey a direct order, especially now that Gibbs got even scarier than before. It wasn't like he was going to stop playing their roles either; contrary to Kate's opinion of him, Tony wasn't stupid. God, Kate! She better be working day and night to find them.  
  
  


 

It was probably due to his shit load of shitty job -pun intended, all the puns- that Tony didn't realize something was wrong in the _koğuş_. He was walking towards their bunkbed when he realized the anticipation growing to dangerous proportions in the air. It wasn't anything that he could put his finger to, but there was definitely something. It was the little things, the way the inmates holding themselves, the way that nobody fighting over anything, the way that the tone of the constant buzz got lower to a murmur instead of the usual gurgling cacophony. When he reached their bed, he saw Gibbs holding himself ready for a fight, clearly not happy -for Gibbs that meant extra extra unhappy- with something.

Dinner was a nerve wracking experience. Knowing that something bad was going to happen and also knowing that he was totally helpless to stop it was taking its toll on Tony's law enforcement mind. Gibbs had to stop his babble twice.

After dinner, Gibbs asked him to take care of his hands. Again. It was as if gambling and fighting was Gibbs' chores that he had to do every single day. His hands were not too bad today. However, some old stiches had gotten busted and Tony needed to redo them again. He hated sticking needless to Gibbs. It wasn't a joy even in the presence of painkillers and narcotics, but without the help of even some whiskey... At least it took his mind from the upcoming showdown.

When it started, the kid was ready, fists high to protect his face, back to wall to prevent surprise attacks... Not that it helped him at all. He only managed to score few hits before they overpowered him. He was still kicking like a wild animal but the gang didn't like that their victim was acting _unwilling_. The gang rape party turned into an angry mob, mercilessly beating the kid. When Tony saw the kid's blood spilling freely, he jumped up only to be stopped by his boss. The blows kept raining until the kid was down. But the men didn't stop there, their blood boiling with the excitement of the fight or maybe the blood, or the promise of a fuck, they kicked him for a while too. Then, finally then, they stopped the beating and started the rape. The bloody scene made Tony heave.

"Suck me." Gibbs ordered while watching the violent bloodbath like an ultra high definition motion picture.

Tony didn't have it in him to respond vocally. He couldn't believe his very ears. No way Gibbs would enjoy anything like this. No way. And there was no way Tony could perform anything sexual at the moment. He might never perform again.

"I said suck me!" Gibbs pulled him right between his legs, grabbing his hair. He, then, whispered in his ears, "They expect me to join the fun, Tony. You know I can't... So... Please?"

Of course. Of fucking course.

Gibbs wasn't hard, not even half aroused waiting to be pleasured way. His dick was limp and small, as disinterested as Tony's own. So, Tony only put a show of giving the head; his protesting stomach helping the gagging act. Gibbs held his head as if moving him around, but he was actually plugging his ears, protecting him from the screams and grunts. With all the eyes fixed on the brutal show, hopefully nobody would recognize Tony was only acting. 

When Gibbs finally pretended to be done, Tony's jaw was hurting. He got up on weak knees, his eyes turning to the rape scene on their own. The kid was lying on the dirty floor; covered with blood and looking deader than some of their murder victims.

"Go!" Gibbs ordered, "you can help if you want." Then jumped up on his own bed as if he didn't care either way.

Tony picked several towels with a basin full of cold water together with the first aid bag. The kid needed a fully operational emergency room, but Tony was all he got until morning came with guards to take him to infirmary.

He had to wash the kid's face to be able to see him. That gorgeous face was beaten into raw meat. His features lost in between swellings; he looked more like a playdough doll, put together by an impatient toddler. Tony thanked to whatever/whoever listening that the boy was passed out because no doubt the rough fabric would feel like sandpaper on his battered skin. It took him a while to clean everything, then he moved the kid to an empty bed to take care of his ass. It was butchered.

"You stay away from the kid." Gibbs whispered from where he was lying when Tony returned to his own bed. It was passed midnight. The pink tint that covered Tony's hands had been impossible to clean. Strong copper smell stuck to his nose, overwhelming even over the stench of their _koğuş._   Tony was spent, both physically and emotionally. He had been stitching a torn kid together as if he was a busted scarecrow.

"Fuck you, boss." He whispered back, anger rooting in his helpless despair, boiling dangerously toward an explosion. "I swore an oath to serve and protect once, not ready to forget that."

Without a sound he found Gibbs on top of him, breathing fury at his neck. "Yeah? Do you really think joining the fight would've helped him? Us three against 20? Really?" He was holding Tony hard, pressing his head to the base of the bed through the thin, smelly matress. "You think fighting help the poor kid? He could have gotten it much easier if he didn't-"

Tony didn't want to listen anymore, he pushed Gibbs back and raised his voice "So it's his fucking fault, huh, boss? As pretty as he was, practically asking for it anyways. Right? Had to be a fag-"

Gibbs' fist right at his diaphragm cut his sentence together with his breath. "Don't mix up being pragmatic with being an asshole, Tony. It's your responsibility to your brothers in trenches to stay alive." Then he left him alone. 

 

TBC...


	6. Consequences

  
_3 weeks and few days in prison_

 

 

If Gibbs never played or saw another bloody backgammon again, it was going to be too soon. He hated the game. Hated how competitive the guys were on a stupid pastime. Hated how much he had to play every single day and night, at all hours. He had to, first because that's how they rolled and second Tony needed so much soap that it was ridiculous; he had been spending a fortune on suds. He was lucky Gibbs wasn't bad at backgammon or didn't want cigarettes instead.

However, even through his usual hatred and boredom, he could tell this game was pretty fucked up. He was being played. They had let him win the last hand, and this one too. He looked around and caught a nervous peek from the crowd. That, together with his screaming gut did it. He throw the gameboard to his opponents face and jumped up. He kicked couple of guys' ass on his way to the showers where Tony should be after his cleaning duty.

That's where he found his agent; five guys trying to keep him down. Some of them had apparent signs that Tony had fought, fought well. Scenes from the last gang rape popped up in his mind, breaking something inside him, maybe the tie to his sanity. It was as if he was looking through a long tunnel to the action, as if watching himself going through motions in unexpected serenity. He didn't even feel the impact of his blows when he rammed a guy's nose all the way into his brain. The bastard fell to ground like a sack of potatoes, instantly dead.  The next guy coming at him must be roaring; his mouth was wide open but the only noise Gibbs did hear was his own heartbeat, slow and steady. He most probably stopped roaring after Gibbs broke his arm in two places and let him agonize on the ground with a kick to his solar plexus. One of the guys was still on top of Tony, not even pausing his effort in forcing his dick into the unyielding enterence. He paid for it dearly. Even though another guy was attacking him, Gibbs broke the neck of the insistent bastard, let him fall on Tony his dick still in his hand.

There was another guy with a broken arm on the ground, Gibbs didn't even remembered doing that. That guy was apologizing, his big brown eyes filled with panic. His begging didn't touch anything soft in Gibbs, quite contrary, he looked utterly disgusting in his once white wife beater, naked waist down. That disgusting piece of shit had touched Tony, hurt him. Gibbs clutched his worthless, hairy balls, then ripped them. The scream was deliciously satisfying, even more so than the mangled, squishy flesh between his fingers. That scream finally sated the monster in him, turning his vision back to normal.

There was quite a crowd gathered around them, watching the show with awe. Some with nausea.

" _Oğlanıma dokunanın ağzına sıçarım!_ " he yelled, raising the hand holding the bloody balls of the bastard, "I'll shit in the mouth of whoever touches my boy!" He then showed the guy dry heaving on the ground. " _Oğlan lazımsa, aha bu pezeveği kullanın._  Use this piece of shit if you need a boy."

He then, finally then, could pay attention to Tony who somehow managed to put on his pants. He was in a really bad shape; one eye was swollen shut, his nose probably broken. His jaw looked dislocated together with his shoulder. A closer inspection showed that he had few bruised if not broken ribs.

"Jesus, Tony..." Gibbs had promised safety. Tony had already paid his due, played his role, got fucked regularly and still...

"They couldn't, boss." Tony mumbled, words barely understandable through his messed up jaw. "Nick of time."

"Don't talk." He tried smiling, "With a busted jaw and I still have to tell you to be quiet." He wasn't sure where to start, what to do before the guards would come and take him away. Then saw the other _koğuş oğlanı_ , Memet or whatever.

" _Ona iyi bak, yoksa döndüğümde bellerim ananı._ " He threatened the boy.  "Take care of him or I'll fuck your mom when I'm back."

Memet jumped about a feet, then run to Tony. " _Emrin olur, ağa._  Sure thing, master."

That's when guards entered with batons, hitting anyone and everyone on their way.

"You take care, Tony. I'll be back."  
  
  
  


 

Memet helped him up and took him to infirmary; mumbling under his breath probably about psycho assholes. There wasn't anything like a solitary in this prison. When an inmate misbehaved, he was taken to be beaten properly by the guards. That's all there was in terms of correction, though Tony had never witnessed murder here and it scared him. He didn't know when -he refused to use if- Gibbs was coming back.

Tony had to wait for his attackers to be tended first, the ones that were still alive. The doctor, Tony used the term very loosely, wasn't happy to see yet another job. His hands were neither soft nor careful, but they did a good job of cleaning his wounds and correcting his dislocated joints which was agony to go through without any kind of painkillers. He refused to check if Tony was raped though, " _Gavurun kıçına bakamam_." He said, in which Tony knew the words infidel, ass and look, and understood the meaning easily. Luckily, he didn't need any treatment there. Gibbs had arrived just in time. God! Gibbs....

Memet helped him back to their _koğuş_ , all the way to his bed. People gave a wide berth when they were passing by, no one even looking at them.

The guards had kept Gibbs until midnight, probably the night shift had started and overtook the punishment. They threw Gibbs like he was yesterday's garbage when they finally came. He was unrecognizable. A bumpy canvas of black and blue. As far as Tony could tell there wasn't anything broken. His feet took the worst, swollen at least twice to their size. Tony knew bastinado was the most common corporal punishment in the prison, he had witnessed many inmates coming back from their time with guards, unable to step on their feet without screaming. But nothing this severe. Not even close. He tried to ignore the scary thoughts like nerve damage or fractured bones.

Tony couldn't sleep while Gibbs was out. He was obviously worried about his boss but he was more afraid that people might want revenge, now that Gibbs out of commission. Strangely, that didn't happen. These lowlifes either had a fucked up honor code or they really believed Gibbs could take them even one foot in grave.

Around dawn, Gibbs opened his eyes and even before drinking the water that was forced to his mouth he asked if Tony was okay.

"Am I okay?" Tony laughed, "you really need a mirror, boss."

"Did anyone... Anyone else touched you?" He managed between swollen lips.

"No one touched me, Gibbs. I'm fine." But Gibbs wasn't. The guards were going to repeat the beating after he was feeling a little better. A few days, they had said, they would allow him a few days to heal first. Tony didn't mention that to his boss yet. Gibbs wasn't awake long enough anyways.

He kept waiting next to Gibbs, not even leaving for his chores. No one came yelling, so maybe it was expected. He kept planning their escape. He had started long ago, nothing concrete but general guidelines he had learned from Clint Eastwood and Steve McQueen. He knew guards' schedule. He knew the weak points of the prison. He knew exactly when and where they could climb up to freedom. It was all good except Gibbs and him was towering everyone in this place almost a foot. They would stick out like a sore thumb in a crowd of hundreds and that's without considering Tony's light hair. It really was an impossible plan, but it was the only one he had. He couldn't help working on it, making it somehow feasible. They had to try before the guards came for Gibbs.

 

TBC.....


	7. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was really hard to write this chapter. I know both men sound a bit off character. Some of it was intentional because of the trauma they had been through. But some of it was because I made Gibbs talk which we know could never happen unless he's dying and a ghost is forcing him to do so.

They didn't have to go through Tony's half-ass, crazy plan. Because that... that was Tony's favorite probie yelling his name in the corridor.

"McGee!"

"Tony." He came in surrounded by strapping young marines. Tony would kiss each and every one of the jarheads if he wasn't sure they wouldn't like it. "I can't believe I found you." Tim continued.

Tony couldn't help but laugh, felt like he hadn't for years.

"I knew you could, McSaver. I knew you could." He hugged the wide eyed boy. The marines were already busy with Gibbs, putting him gently on one of those field stretchers that they had put together in few quick steps, right next to him.

"That Gibbs?" asked McGee, his eyes wide with horror this time. "What happened?"

"Prison." Tony answered while walking out of the building under the stunned looks of inmates and guards. "What took you so long, probie?" He asked climbing the van; not mentioning how he had already lost all hope.

"You wouldn't believe the bureaucratic and diplomatic bullshit we're in right now. There was no trail, no trace... If it wasn't for the Navy Base Commander, I couldn't have... I'm so sorry Tony."

"You found us. It's all that matters." He laid his head to the side panel of the van and slept. Just like that. Better than he had almost a month.  
  
  
  


 

The apartment looked different and enormous after his long trip. Marrow had forced them to stay in the hospital and this time Tony didn't even fight the doctors to leave early. He had to go through a few surgeries to realign his nose, to help damaged ligaments on his shoulder and to remove severe hematoma in his abdomen. He even had seen the psychologist the hospital assigned him and even though he didn't tell the guy everything he had been through, he didn't blow it off either. Like the old Tony would have done.

He had time to reevaluate what they talked with the psychologist at the hospital. Even though Abby tried to camp in his room, he had more than enough time. Abby was in a perpetual manic-depressive mood. She would cry her heart out, telling how she couldn't do anything to find them because there was no trail physical or digital, only to laugh like a kid a minute later, hugging Tony's unbandaged arm like a plushie. -She was told by Ducky, several times, that hugging Tony was out of question until his ribs were healed.- It was easy to seek comfort in her hugs, her energetic babble, her knowing and understanding eyes.

Tim was equal part proud that he had managed to find them even though he was in a strange country where no one wanted to help an American agent just out of spite. At the same time, he was crushed under the heavy guilt that he couldn't find them soon enough. Tony tired to convince him that he had done everything he could, but it didn't stick. At the end, it was the Navy Commander that had ordered his marines, against the diplomatic directive, to check each and every prison for their lost men for the slight possibility that they might be alive and wrongly incarcerated. Tony had never been this grateful to * _no man left behind._ *

Ducky treated him exactly like a guy who had been to the worst parts of the world. He never asked the uncomfortable questions like Abby did -that girl really couldn't help herself. But he didn't treated Tony as if nothing serious could have happened, like poor Tim. Tony found solace in his presence; his screaming mind got quiet whenever the old doctor was sitting next to him and going on and on about one of his never ending anecdotes.

While every visitor helped him somehow, Kate didn't. Kate looked at him the first time and she knew. She knew Tony was a changed, broken man. As if she saw through all his walls for the first time. Tony couldn't meet her eyes afterwards. She tried playing the jealous sister after her initial shock, but something essential was missing. She was also seething with anger, still not over the ban on female investigators going in male prisons -and many other places in that country. And with guilt probably; she had made a few derisive comments back than, about Tony and his manhood that allowed him to go places she couldn't.

Gibbs visited him once, stoic as usual, he used few hand gestures in liue of communication then left back to his own room. Tony got it, after everything they had been through, sharing feelings and what not, but especially the horizontal tango... it was not easy to go back to their old balance... Who was he kidding? Gibbs couldn't even look him in the eye. It was not not easy; it was impossible.  
  
  


 

 

He was in the middle of mopping the floor -looking at the dirt collected there, one might think he had been away for years- his door was knocked. Hard. Time to face the music then.

"Come in." He invited a very pissed off Gibbs.

"Is it true?" He asked, succinct and to the point.

"If you're talking about-"

"Cut the crap, Tony. Did you hand your notice or not?"

"As I was saying; if you're referring to my resignation, yes."

Gibbs, then, sat down. "And I'm hearing about your decision from Tom because...?"

"I don't know Gibbs, maybe I was afraid you would try to convince me not to. Or maybe didn't wanna face your reaction... take your pick."

"Tony..." Leroy Jethro Gibbs, the functional mute, tried talking, his eyes trained on the centerpiece, "Don't you think it's rushed. If you give it some time-"

"Give what time, Gibbs? You can't even say- You can't even look at me." Tony yelled; something bitter and ugly was raising inside him, all the way from that unspeakable fear, burning everything on its way like acrid bile.

That made Gibbs look at him, really look. First time since they had started their dangerous game in that damned prison. He looked and saw Tony. "Why do you think I can't look at you, Tony?"

"Because I wasn't who I claimed to be." As if his fear had its own voice, speaking freely because his usual walls and defense mechanisms were broken and left in million pieces in that cursed place. "Because you need a strong man at your six but what you got is -"

"Stop right there." Gibbs interrupted him with a pointed finger. "So it never occurred to you that it could be guilt. That I practically raped a subordinate, again and again and now don't know how to live with myself. I don't even know how to apologise because there aren't any words..."

"It's sign of weakness anyways." Tony replied, somewhat automatically. He never thought of what they had done as rape, but he could understand how Gibbs would blame himself.

"Fuck that rule. Fuck all of them really." Gibbs didn't sound like himself. "What?"

"You swore. I don't think I've ever heard you swear before. In English anyways."

"I was a marine, Tony. I know how to swear like a sailor." He smiled; one of those little ones that crinkled his eyes, that made Tony crave for more. Then, he got serious, "I don't think of you any less than before we left for that case. But I can understand if you can't work with me anymore." He stopped and exhaled loudly. "If you want to file a formal complaint, it's your right too." Tony started shaking his head, but Gibbs didn't stop. "I'm just saying, you don't have to leave NCIS. You have a future here, you could lead your own team in a few years. I don't want you to throw it away because of something I did."

"That's not the only reason, Gibbs." Tony said when it was obvious Gibbs filled his yearly quota of caring and sharing.

"No?"

"I want to work in a place that I don't have to hide anymore. I can't be a gay agent in NCIS."

"You're not gay." Gibbs stopped him. "Just bi-"

"Bi-curious?" mocked Tony.

"I might be old, but not a dinosaur. Was going to say bisexual. I know you, Tony"

"Oh, really?!" He cried, feeling like a petulant child.

"Knew you better than your fucking father." Gibbs interrupted him. "Better than anyone in this world even."

"Yeah." He sat down, suddenly feeling deflated. "We shared a fuckton in the last month alone."  
  
  
  


 

 

Tony looked lost; no trace of his usual buzzing presence that made him Tony. His eyes were missing the glint that almost always meant trouble. Even his hair, even longer now, looked duller.

"Yes," Gibbs finally answered Tony, "you've shared. Maybe it's my turn." He had to push the words out; forcibly pulling them one by one as if each one was dragging their thorns through his larynx. He owed Tony, but he couldn't build a single sentence to explain how he felt. How could you tell someone you forced yourself on that your experience was in fact quite enjoyable. That you couldn't look at them without seeing a dick between those pretty, inviting lips... That you got addicted to their skin... That you were actually hoping that.. that...

"Good sharing." Tony laughed, not a sincere one.

"Don't you have anything to ease the conversation?" He asked, exasperated with his inability to talk.

"You need Dutch courage, boss?" Tony asked smirking.

"I prefer American one."

Tony filled two glasses almost to the brim with whiskey. Quality one too. He, then, drank his with big, satisfying gulps; his Adam's apple bobbing through his long neck. Gibbs couldn't steer his eyes. Unlike Tony, Gibbs had never even questioned his sexuality before; maybe being married for most of his life lulled any doubts. Or, maybe it was possible to change even at his age, after some really bad experiences with ladies and really good one with a man. Or, maybe this had nothing to do with being gay, maybe as his only hippie girlfriend claimed, people could love anyone if not for the societal doctrines.

"You want another one?" asked Tony, his glass still half full. Gibbs realized he had finished his own.

"No, I'm good." He put the empty tumbler on the coffee table. _Be a man, Jethro! This_  was even harder than he had anticipated.

"It's okay, Gibbs. I know talking isn't your strong suit, unless in interrogation." Tony smiled; a half smile, crooked in one end like an embodiment of broken hopes.

"I... I can show you, though."

"Show me what?"

"I can show you how I don't think of you any less because of what we did." That gave him a full smile; curiosity was still the driving force in Tony then, good. "I want you to do me." He finally managed to say the words, "only if you want to though."

"What?"

"I want you to fuck me, Tony."

"No, you don't." He stood up, his anger raising again it seemed; his cheeks turning pink like a color indicator for his irritation. "You think you're gonna do a big sacrifice. Level the fighting ground. Eye for an-"

"No. I want you to watch your face while you're fucking me." He said trying to keep eye contact, "I want you to watch me too. Okay? I don't want a quid pro quo, I want sex. With you."

Those brilliant hazel eyes twinkled a little, questioning, taking everything in. "You are serious."

"I came prepared." Gibbs confessed. He hadn't know how things would fold, but just in case..

"You're telling me..."

"That I'm sitting here with my ass lubed and fingered, waiting for you to decide if you want me."

"You know I want you, Gibbs. I've told you." said Tony, dropping back to the couch.

"No, a prison bitch told his asshole benefactor what the bastard wanted to hear. It wasn't you, Tony."

And when Tony didn't answer for a while, seemingly lost in thoughts, Gibbs stood up, walked two steps in front of the young guy and kneeled between his legs.

"I am not that guy either, Tony. I need you to know that, remember that." He said, his eyes locked Tony's; checking for any sign, good or bad.

"Jesus! Gibbs."

"Tell me to leave if that's what you want, Tony. I'll go and we'll never mention this again."

Tony kissed him instead. His lips soft, softening something inside Gibbs too. They moved toward the bedroom while kissing, knocking couple of furniture on their way. He fell down to bed with Tony on top of him, blood boiling with anticipation and lust.

"Jesus! Fuck!" Tony kept cursing while shrugging his clothes off. They were naked in matter of seconds. Tony stopped with his dick, long, beautiful dick -Gibbs was gay alright, no doubt about it anymore- in his hand, "Are you... are you sure?"

"It might be my first time with a guy, but I'm not a stranger to ass play, Tony. I know what to expect."

"You're fucking killing me." Tony wheezed, eyes shut closed, collecting himself. Then, slowly, slower than necessary, he pushed in. Gibbs watched the blissful expression on his beautiful face.

When Tony was all the way in, their eyes locked and Gibbs tried to convey his feelings, the things he could never say aloud, through his eyes. That how much he enjoyed being with Tony, how good he felt in him, on him, how much he loved the young guy and how scared he was of losing him. Tony moved then; slow, steady thrusts, pushing and prodding until he got the angle right.

"Yeah! Fuck! Like this, Tony." Gibbs let him know how good it felt. "You feel how hard I am?" He asked. "Can you tell how much I enjoy this?... your dick... your fucking... Jesus Christ!"

He had to kiss the guy, again. Not a proper kiss because they both had to breathe hard and Tony was moving quite passionately, but it was as satisfying as the one before, maybe even more so.

It didn't last long. They both were in a hurry to reach the summit; Tony pumping in and out with fervor while Gibbs stroking himself in tandem. He could feel how his own orgasm triggered Tony's, continued in cascades of passion in the young man. Tony climaxing was a thing of beauty; muscles bulging, mouth open, that too fucking long hair wet with sweat... He looked like one of those pretty boys from the soft porns that ladies loved.

"You okay?" He asked after Tony flapped down next to him.

"Yeah... I'm just... Out of practice I guess."

"Oh, I thought it was because I was special." Gibbs grinned.

"You **a** **re**  a bastard." laughed Tony, carefree and joyful. Gibbs missed watching him laugh.

"I really missed your laugh." He confessed, finding it easier to talk while basking in the afterglow as usual.

"So... What now?" asked Tony, his gaze roaming below Gibbs' chin, avoiding his eyes.

"I know I pretend otherwise; but I don't have all the answers, Tony. Especially when things got romantic, I tread blindly." Tony's expression turned grim in that second, so Gibbs had to move fast. "But if you ask me, I'd love to make this a recurring experience. And that's all I can give now."

"I'm not expecting an engagement ring, Gibbs. Commitment issues are real."

"No, they're not." He answered; he wasn't lying when he said he knew Tony better than anyone. "You don't have commitment issues, Tony. Not with me."

"I applied FBI."

"Don't tell me you're gonna work for Fornell." The stealing exes thing was becoming a real nuisance.

"No, trying my chances in BAU. Fornell only put a good word for me."

"Huh!"

"What?"

"No problem with being openly gay with bunch of shrinks, that's for sure." He, then, pulled Tony back on top of himself, stopping him from talking more, "Now, sleep. I've always thought gay sex meant not being forced to talk afterwards. I was wrong apparently."

"Bastard!"  
  
The End  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. Let me know either way.
> 
> Also, little secret. My original plan was to separate them completely after the rescue because let's be honest, that would be more realistic. Gibbs trying a head slap, Tony stopping him and they all go their own way. Tony believing his boss is a homophobe and Gibbs believing staying away from him is the best thing he could do to Tony after raping him. That's how they wanted it to end actually.
> 
> But what's the point in writing fan fiction if you can't have the happily everafter you crave, right? So, I had to beat up these two men for a few days until they gave up and listen to me. Now we're all happy. Right? Except that little lamb left in prison. Tony still have nightmares about him.


End file.
